Time Turning
by cloudyautumn
Summary: Time Travel fic but not cliche! Post War When a time turner screws up, two people find themselves in the wrong time. Pairings include: HHr,RHr,HG,DHr,PH,JHr,JS,SHr,RL,GN,RT


Time Turning

_Cloudy Autumn_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

Hermione Granger was attempting to tutor Seamus Finnegan in Potions and for the twentieth time that night she felt herself tugging a curly lock of brown hair impatiently.

"The most important thing," Hermione was carefully enunciating to her new, decidedly hapless partner "is that you read the ingredients. If you don't know what you're doing, do not improvise!" She stressed the last sentence, and grabbed his wrist before he could put faerie wings into the cauldron instead of faerie dust.

"They come from the same bloody creature," Seamus whined, genuinely confused and annoyed, "why does it matter which part we use?" His lips twisted in bemused exasperation and she took pity on him.

"The reason," she explained, trying to keep patient, "is this. Read this out loud to me." She pushed her potions textbook towards him, slim finger tracing the passage she wanted him to read.

"Each ingredient, be it from the same genus or not, has different magical properties. Research has found this to be due to the life force and compound of magic in each object. Therefore, using the singing draught as an example, using the claw of a toad instead of its eye, whose properties include inducing a potion with pain-inducing qualities," he read dutifully, his voice flat, "will mesh with the properties of dried flax seed, which causes the drinker's voice box to constrict and therefore creates the draught of silence and, if not cured within three days, results in the drinker's vocal cords shredding." He sighed. "But what in Merlin's name does that all mean?"

"Long story short," Hermione said briskly, who had been stirring the potion for Seamus while he read, "is that everything has a different magical signature and putting in a different ingredient results in creating a different potion," she smiled wryly before saying, "that can be potentially harmful. Actually, there are cases of experimenting gone wrong that led to explosions. It's like accidentally putting nitroglycerin in a cake instead of baking powder."

"But no one's that stupid," Seamus cried, his eyes wide. "You stir that baby and then you're vaporized."

"Exactly," Hermione replied, "and potions can be a hell of a lot more dangerous than baking Seamus, which is why you need to really know what you're putting in the potion."

"Aye," he smiled at her, and Hermione noticed that he was kind of cute. "Thanks Hermione, for clearing that up. Alright, so let's finish this potion up." Hermione went to get more ingredients from the storage room and he began to slice knotgrass. She came back from the storage room with a flask of hellebore syrup. She came back just in time to see Seamus pour his neatly sliced herb into the cauldron

"Seamus I thought we went over this," Hermione murmured exasperatedly, stopping him before he could put in any more. He looked at her confusedly.

"I did read the text, honest!" he exclaimed, pointing to the ingredients list where sliced knotgrass was clearly written. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she glanced at it before scanning the rest of the list.

"The book made a mistake," a look of annoyance crossed her features as she looked apologetically at Seamus. "I'm sorry for assuming that it was your fault. That was wrong of me."

"I guess your apology works," he winked languidly at her, "since it's not every day someone like me gets to hear Hermione Granger admit that she was wrong." He grinned at her and she scowled and playfully swatted him. "Do I get an apology for that too?" he asked her innocently.

"Don't push your luck," she laughed, before raising her hand to get the Potion Master's attention. After the disappearance of Severus Snape, McGonagall had hired Gaspard Shingleton to take up the position of Potions Professor at Hogwarts. The teacher, who resembled Snape in looks but definitely not skill, had swingy black hair and a sallow complexion. His eyes weren't the piercing beetle-black that Snape's were though.

"Yes Miss Granger?" he boomed from where he was "observing" Harry's potions skills. Another difference in comparison to Snape- where he had hated Harry Potter with a passion, Shingleton loved Harry Potter with a disgusting desperation. Harry, Ron and Hermione knew that Shingleton was just trying to make nice with the Boy-Who-Lived.

"The textbook is wrong sir," she said in clipped tones, her respect for the teacher slipping. The man couldn't possibly be aware of finer potion making since it was common knowledge among true potion masters that the sound in the room a potion was prepared affected the final potion's quality. "It states knotgrass as one of the ingredients instead of fever grass."

"Does it now," he lifted Harry's textbook from the black work tables and pored over the ingredients' list, closing the book with an exaggerated snap. "So you're right Miss Granger," he smiled benignly and Hermione allowed a tight-lipped smile back, "I'm going to have to ask everyone to clean up your cauldrons and pack up; class is dismissed since there isn't enough time to create the real solution now. We will start again tomorrow."

There was a collective cheer and many people flashed grins in Hermione's direction. Harry quickly vanished his potion and Ron put the ingredients into the storage cabinet.

"Great job Mione," he smiled, patting her on the back. "I swear if I had to deal with his fawning for another five minutes I would've lost it completely."

"I know what you mean," she rolled her eyes as she carefully put everything back into the flasks and jars. She placed her own personal supplies back into her bag. "I wouldn't be surprised if he asks for your autograph soon."

"He loves you Harry," Seamus added, before clasping his hands together and fluttering his eyelashes at him. "Will you marry me Potter?"

"That," Ron's eyebrows flew so high they'd disappeared, "was the creepiest thing I've seen in a while Seamus. Best vanish your potion so we can get out of here." He motioned to the bubbling azure liquid in the cauldron.

"Oh yeah," Hermione muttered, whipping out her wand. Unfortunately, something slipped out of her pocket with it and went sailing into the potion. "Oh no!"

"I got it," Harry said, fishing it out with his wand and using a scourgifying charm on it. He handed it to Hermione who looked at it worriedly before pocketing it.

"What was that?" Seamus asked curiously. Hermione planted a small, fake smile on her face.

"Just a present my mum gave me," she replied, patting her pocket. "A necklace… not worth much but it's the thought that counted right? She would have killed me if it had been dissolved or something like that." She shuddered for effect.

He laughed. "Me mam's like that too," he whistled, "I once almost lost her wedding ring when I was playing with the lass next door. Oh boy, she charmed the pans to chase me round the house and whack me 'un." Ron and Harry burst out laughing and Hermione bit her lip as to keep from laughing with them and instead vanished the potion, as she'd meant to do before.

"I'll see you later Hermione," Seamus said finally, after everything had been cleaned up. He deftly picked up his bookbag and hoisted it over his shoulder. Hermione definitely caught the flirty glance he sent her before he turned around and walked away.

"What was that?" Harry was very tempted to smirk, but held himself in check. Hermione's face coloured a bit, making him laugh. "Have you got it bad Hermione?" he asked in a singsong voice.

"Prat," she replied, slapping the back of his head. He yelped and reflexively, his hand flew to the back of his head, rubbing it. She laughed, "You absolutely deserved that."

"Actually," Ron corrected, a bit put out with Seamus' barely hidden flirting, "Harry shouldn't have deserved it because it was Seamus who practically winked at you so it should be Seamus who deserves it." Harry snorted as Hermione gaped at Ron and his logic. Her hand flew up to smack him too and he dodged her, although he was hard pressed to- when he ducked, he was still at least four-foot-something high.

"For both of your information," Hermione sniffed, quitting her attempts to pay Ron back for his comment, "I don't like Seamus although I'm flattered that he's wasting his time with me." She raised her head, challenging either boy to say something, and they exchanged glances over her head.

"He'd better be wasting his time with you," Harry said and Ron was nodding sagely in agreement, "because you're our Hermione Granger." He stressed the 'our' and both he and Ron put an arm over her shoulders.

"We're the three masketeers," Ron added helpfully, as the three unseparable friends emerged from the dark, cool dungeons and into the sunlight corridors.

"It's musketeers Ron," Hermione sighed exasperatedly but the three of them laughed good naturedly as they bypassed all of the students parting ways for the amazing

'Golden Trio' of Hogwarts.

* * *

"I've run out of things to write," frustrated, Harry ran a hand through his already messy, deep black hair. He glared, alternately, at his parchment and quill as if they were somehow to blame.

"Well you'll have to rewrite your entire essay if you keep doing that," Hermione chastised him, pausing in her writing to look up at him, "I think if that glare gets any hotter your quill is going to combust." She resumed her writing, elegant script penning out a foot of writing over the limit as usual.

"Thanks," he murmured sarcastically, absentmindedly doodling on the side of the parchment. "I've written everything- intro to conclusion and I'm still three inches short."

"Beats me mate," Ron scratched his head, "I've got six inches to go." He jerked his head, motioning to the other people in the common room. "It doesn't help that these gits don't know how to pipe down."

"It's not their fault I guess," Harry looked slightly melancholy, he looked around at the new common rooms, newly repaired and refinished after the havoc of the war. A cheery fire burned and Crookshanks was curled up on the hearth. The circular room seemed to bounce around the conversation and laughter in the room but to Harry, it still felt more quiet than it should have been. "How many of these people expected to be back for their eighth year?"

"Some of the stupid people," Ron joked, trying to lighten the slightly gloomy atmosphere that blanketed the three of them. To the people around them, they looked so much older than everyone else. There was the light of wisdom and the shadow innocence lost- the epitome of the War. Then Hermione cracked a smile and Harry chuckled. The tension disappeared and once again they looked like the young adults they were.

"I hate this stupid common room thing sometimes," Hermione grumbled, looking at the pewter statues that perched above the alcoves that led to each dormitory. There were only four: one for Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Eighth years were allowed to share a co-ed dorm; many were still uneasy with sleeping alone in case of a threat. They knew that realistically, there would be no more threats to their safety but old habits die hard, and many felt safer being altogether. One of the many drawbacks, however, was the noise when one was trying to complete homework.

Hermione glanced around, taking in the shades of blue, red, yellow and green, expertly integrated into the décor so that it did not appear as a hash of colours. The furniture that littered the room was occupied by fellow eighth years who had returned and Hermione felt proud that the houses were finally mingling. It was bittersweet though, she recollected, exactly what it had taken to finally achieve this harmony.

She saw Daphne Greengrass and Terry Boot playing Wizard's Chess, closer to the fire, and Hannah Abbot and Neville were quietly discussing in the damask backed red and gold chairs by the shelves of books. The Slytherins were decidedly less in number, although many of the quiet, neutral ones had come back for their N.E.W.T's. She found herself looking at Draco Malfoy, one of the Slytherins who were decidedly not neutral during the war.

He must have noticed her gaze on him because he looked up from where he was reading, in one of the high backed chairs. A brazier whose magical coals burned but did not sputter ash was directly above his head and Hermione noted that he, ironically, had a halo of light around his head because of his white-blond hair. His grey eyes bore into hers, expression unfathomable. Hermione often wondered what he of all people had been thinking in returning to the school. She had heard Harry's side of the story; what Narcissa Malfoy had done for him through her love for Draco. But she knew that not many people knew that story or frankly, cared to believe it. The haughty Slytherin still came back to Hogwarts though, back to the school he'd sullied and whose beloved Headmaster he had sentenced to death. He was so intriguing to her-

"Finished!" Harry exclaimed, sighing with relief. He sunk back into his chair, the weight of freedom completely destroying any good posture he'd held before. Closing his eyes, he smiled. "I hate Charms."

"Me too," Ron concurred, running a hand through his dark red hair. "Can I see your paper for a sec mate?" Harry wordlessly handed his newly finished essay to Ron who skimmed it, murmuring quietly to himself before penning the last sentences of his essay.

"Thanks Harry you're a lifesaver," Ron grinned, causing Hermione to roll his eyes at his pun. Noticing this, he impishly stuck out his tongue at her. His wide, round eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled charmingly. Hermione found herself raising an eyebrow.

"I can be good with words too," he declared indignantly, causing Harry to roll his eyes this time. "I can, Potter!" Harry smirked.

"Never said you couldn't Weasley," he countered, "now, are you up for a game of Chess before bed?" Ron outright laughed at him.

"What," he taunted him, his expressive lips curving into a competitive smile, "trying to break your 56-lost losing streak?" Harry rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin in his hand as he pretended to think.

"I think it's actually only 13, since I beat you that time-"

"Hey!" Ron shouted, catching the attention of a few people around him. His arms were waving around in front of him as he made a nixing motion to Harry.

"Ha," Harry said victoriously, "I have shamed Ronald Weasley," His bright green eyes glinted with mirth. Almost seemingly as if he'd remembered something, he raised his head from his hand and looked at Hermione.

"I just remembered," he addressed the brunette, who was looking at him curiously, "How's your umm you know, thing?" He glanced around furtively, making sure that no one had been looking too interested with his inquiry and could have even deciphered his sentence. Hazel eyes lit up in recognition.

"Oh!" Hermione said, startled. "I'd forgotten about that." Her hand went instinctively to her pocket but she didn't take it out. "I'm just going to head off to bed. Are you guys coming?" she said, in a voice that was a bit higher than normal. Harry and Ron would know that she didn't mean to sleep yet.

"I actually feel kind of tuckered too," Harry said, and both boys stood up and stretched. Ron's eyes darted around, making sure that no one had found them at all suspicious before the three of them sauntered off to the Gryffindor dormitory. Before they'd entered though, he took one last crack at humour with Hermione.

"So when you asked if we were coming to bed," he asked her cheekily, "did that mean altogether?" She scowled and attempted to slap him. Harry shook his head, smiling. They definitely didn't seem suspicious.

They entered the dormitory, decorated to remind them of the dormitories in Gryffindor tower. There was a row of dark mahogany beds, curtained with red fabric and made with matching covers and pillows against each wall and the floor was of a hardwood similar to the bed. The three of them clambered onto Hermione's bed and after casting a quick spell to make sure that no one else was in the dormitory, Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out the precious object hidden within.

The little glass sphere hummed a little as it sparkled, but Hermione thought that perhaps there was something off with the colour of the tiny, shining sand within it. The knob on the side was made of an alloy of some strong metal that resembled gold, as was the thin chain that it hung on.

"It looks okay," Harry breathed, looking at the delicate instrument in Hermione's hands. They had to be very careful with it because after the fiasco at the Ministry in their fifth year nobody had the time to create any more. For now, the object in her hands remained one of a kind and very valuable. It wasn't something that just anyone could get their hands on- especially someone who had something to gain from changing the past.

"Do we need to test it?" Ron asked in a hushed voice, and Hermione tilted her head to the side, wondering. She gently rolled it in her palms, checking it from all sides and angles to make sure that it was not cracked or harmed in any way.

"Thank god that the potion didn't turn out to be some kind of potent acid," Harry muttered and Hermione nodded grimly.

"I think we are going to have to test it," Hermione said, biting her lip. "We'll only go back 1 hour though, just in case." She slipped the chain around her, Ron and Harry.

"Whoa," Ron ducked out from under the golden chain, "someone needs to explain what happened if something goes wrong. I don't know why but I get the feeling that something bad is going to happen."

"Well, the odds are pretty high," Harry shrugged, still within the confines of the chains, "I mean, we're pretty crazy to be messing with an unauthorized magical object that can bend time to our wants. It's imperative that this one be perfectly functioning because it's going to have to be our prototypes to make more."

"You know," Hermione squeaked, her hand stopped on the dial of the instrument, "the way you say that makes me not want to do this." Harry's lips twisted up into a smirk.

"Scared Granger?" he teased, using her surname to lighten up the mood, "don't worry, you've got me in case something goes wrong. It'll just be an hour. Ready?" Without waiting for a reply, his hand covered hers and turned the knob once. The three of them waited with bated breath, two for the world to begin de-aging an hour around them, and one for his two best friends to disappear before his eyes. They waited a few moments more and when nothing happened, they released the breath they hadn't been aware they were holding and slipped off the chain.

"I guess it's broken," Hermione mumbled before replacing the chain around her neck and putting a staying charm on the knob so that it wouldn't turn while she was sleeping. "I'll keep it safe until we can find a way to fix it." Sighing, she kissed both boys on the cheek. "Goodnight boys. We'll figure this out in the morning." She rolled the lounging Ron off of her bed and laughed as he fell with a thump, protesting loudly about his backside.

"You saw what happened to Ron, Mr. Potter," she warned him mockingly as he tried to tuck himself into her bed. He pulled the covers over himself and pretended to be fast asleep. She pushed him to no avail, because he was at least a stone and a half heavier than her. "Ron! Help me!" she giggled as Harry faked a snore. Ron, rumpled from his fall, pouted.

"After you practically threw me off your bed?" he faked hurt, although Hermione knew him well enough to know that he was fabricating it. She laughed at his back and he pretended to flounce off to his bed, grabbing his pyjamas from his trunk before jumping into his bed and shutting the curtains around him.

"I have to get changed Harry," she whined, still trying to make him moved. He cracked one viridian eye open to glance at her.

"But I want to sleep here," he pouted, "It's warm already and it's comfy." He grinned winningly and she snorted. Pulling out her wand, she levitated him to his bed, to which he protested loudly, taking her blanket along with her.

"Give that back!" she laughed, flicking her wand. The blanket zoomed back towards her, rumpled but rightfully where they belonged. She stuck her tongue out at him before reaching over her bed to her trunk to grab her own nightclothes. She charmed the curtains to shut and stay around her while she changed and, when she finished, removed the charm. She sighed, lightly fingering the time turner on her neck before closing her eyes and sleeping soundly.

It was early morning when she woke, not yet seven o clock but sunlight streamed through the large window. She felt something warm around her and turned her head to see Harry curled up against her, holding onto her. She looked at him worriedly, brushing a stray black hair from his forehead. He only crawled into her bed when he was having trouble sleeping and that hadn't happened in a while.

"Potter?" she murmured, "Hey Harry? Wake up and go back to your bed." He groaned and clung to her tightly. She shook his shoulder. "Harry Potter, wake up this instant!"

"I'm awake Mione!" She heard Harry call from his bed. His hair was sticking up from all ends and he was looking at her, confused and bleary eyed. He put on his glasses. "What's the matter? Oi, who's this in my bed?!"

"Harry?" she asked confusedly. "There's someone in my bed too… And if that's you over there, then who-" she trailed off, glancing down at the boy in her bed. She shook his shoulder one last time, hoping to wake him. He looked almost identical to Harry, she thought- and then he opened his eyes.

They were hazel-brown.

"James? James Potter?!" she gasped, and a hand flew to her mouth in shock. He smiled up at her.

"Right and who might you be?"

**END CHAPTER**


End file.
